


As long as we live

by beatriceHB



Series: All that glitters [5]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Eventual Porn, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatriceHB/pseuds/beatriceHB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy considers his attraction to Flint, and discovers yet another way of demonstrating it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	As long as we live

I can see Charles Vane approaching, his face is just recognisable by the light of the crew’s fires. He weaves his way through the tangle of men on the beach, searching for me. I save him the trouble and shout, “Vane!”

“I thought I’d find you down here,” he says, striding towards me, “although I don’t know why you come to the beach when you’ve no intention of joining the revelry.”

“I like to hear the sea.”

He follows my gaze out over the undulating waves, “thinking about making your escape?” 

“There’s no escape for me out there.” 

I motion for him to sit down beside me, and he slumps to his knees, a little off-balance, dropping a bottle at my feet. “You’ll join me in a drink at least?” he says.

I nod, and for a while we rest like that, an easy silence between us, just listening to the men shouting and singing, and the hiss of the breakers.

It’s been barely a month since he and Flint fucked, and it’s a memory I don’t like to dwell on. But even though I hated him so powerfully that night, right now I might almost call him a friend. There’s no one else alive who knows the Captain as intimately as I do, and in the dark days since Flint learned the truth about the gold, it’s been invaluable to have his ear.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“At his books again, something Latin this time, an account of a great siege.”

“Fucks sake, he promised me he’d get some sleep.”

We share a look, and Vane’s expression says it all. No promise from Flint is one worth investing in. Well, few of them anyway.

“He’s still making your life difficult?”

I roll my eyes, “you’ve seen him yourself, you know how he is.”

When Silver gave him the news, his explosive rage soon sharpened into maniacal determination. Getting the gold back is the focus of his every waking moment, employing every ounce of his intellect, from the highest classical knowledge to the lowest animal cunning.

But along with the planning has come the paranoia. He’s always been guarded, but now he suspects everyone. And the more people he suspects, the tighter he clings to me. Whenever he addresses the men, I have to be at his side. Yesterday he conducted a whole meeting with his hand in my lap. And at night, when his sleep is always disturbed, he holds me in the dark and tells me stories of what we’ll do when all this is over, the life we’ll live together on an island of our own. Fairy tales all, of course. The only way men like Flint leave command is overboard in a bag. But I worry that he believes them.

“Has he settled on a plan yet?” Vane has been largely content to leave the decisions to Flint. But then he’s always been more about acting than thinking.

“He’s got fifty,” I respond “but they’re only as good as the information he can get out of Nassau. And now the other side is paying so well, his spies are…. becoming unreliable.” I draw a veil over the number Flint has beaten to death, to emphasise his disappointment in them. “The plans with most chance of success would get most of us killed of course.”

Vane sighs, “I can hear Silver’s speech already…’come fight with me brothers, and the Captain will make us the richest corpses in the new world!’”

A wry laugh escapes me, “sorry thing is, I bet those idiots would cheer him.” 

We both stop then and stare at the crew, who in their dancing and pissing and puking, seem utterly oblivious to the peril we’re in. I’m reminded of an unpleasant argument with Flint earlier, and I know Vane will see my side of it.

“You know” I start tentatively, “he’s talking about keeping me out of the fighting, when we do attack the fort.”

Vane winces, “that’s not good.”

“I knew you’d see it my way. He can’t… or wont. I’ll lose the respect of the crew in a heartbeat. And they won’t love him for it either. They don’t mind us being what we are...”

“As long as you’re still one of them, when it counts.”

“Exactly.”

Vane swallows, “it must be some comfort though, that’s he’s so desperate to protect you?”

And he’s right, it feels good in some ways. But… “I’m a pirate for fuck’s sake. If he won’t let me fight, what else am I good for? I can’t put on a dress and sit about reading books like Lady Hamilton.”

Vane laughs, slightly enjoying my discomfort. “I for one, would pay the best part of my share to see you in a dress.”

“Fuck off!” 

I kick his shins, but it’s only in play. He means no harm. It’s astonishing really how benign a creature he is, under all the temper and bravado. Like so many before me, I made the mistake of confusing the man with the name. 

He starts to fidget, and I sense he’s debating whether to say something. Eventually he speaks, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the endgame for you two?”

So that’s it. I shrug, “who knows? My place is by his side, that’s all. There’s no point agonising over where he might take me.”

“Even if you know it can’t end well.”

“Even then.”

He sighs, “I understand your attachment to him, obviously. But the way I see Flint, he’s like that sky up there. There are a few pinpricks of light, and they dazzle you, they draw all of your attention. But the dark, that’s the real substance isn’t it?”

He’s right, of course. Darkness is at the core of Flint’s being, but I am dazzled by him even so. And the truth is I enjoy being dazzled. I’d rather live painfully in Flint’s glare than comfortably away from it. At night, when he’s whispering love stories into the nape of my neck, his smooth skin warming my back, I feel drunker than I’ve ever been on rum. When he’s away from me, my skin craves his touch and at the merest glimpse of him my whole body fills with this nervous energy that I can barely contain. I’ve no appetite, and even though it’s impossible to sleep properly in a shared bunk, I don’t seem to need sleep like I used to. And I can’t get through a job on the ship without slipping into a daydream about something he said, or a look he gave me…

I realise that I’m doing it now, and Vane’s looking at me as if he can read my mind. I wonder again why he hasn’t pushed for more nights with the Captain, and what that fuck in Tortuga was really all about. Unfinished business, perhaps? Now seems like a good opportunity to ask him. The dark helps, and the amount of rum he’s put away.

“So once was enough for you then?” 

He knows what I’m talking about, no need to spell it out. I watch him scoop up a palm full of sand and let it run out between his fingers.

“Seems that way,” he says finally.

“He’s the first man you’ve ever had… like that… isn’t he?”

He grins up at me from behind a wall of dark hair, “why, was my technique that shit?”

I find myself laughing then, and so is he. How can it already be something we laugh over? There’s a lesson in there, but I’ll probably forget it by morning.

“Why did you fuck him?”

“You fuck him don’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re not like me.”

He offers me the bottle and I take a swig. It’s vicious stuff, but maybe I’m just getting used to the good stuff in Flint’s cabin. _Getting spoiled_ , I think. 

“I’m not sure I understand it myself” he says, as I pass the bottle back. “I hated him at first, which he does make quite easy, if you don’t mind my saying?”

I nod, there’s no point denying it.

“I had to work hard to become a Captain, and really hard to build a name. But Flint, when he came, he made it look so easy. He had the beach eating out of his hand and didn’t even seem to break a sweat. He ate me up and shat me out, that’s the truth of it. And the worst of it was, I couldn’t help admiring the skill he brought to thieving, the thought he put into it. He raised this game to a fucking artform. It’s hard not to respect that.”

“So you admired him, fair enough. But why fuck him?”

Now he starts squirming, “I couldn’t stop thinking that if I could just get close enough to him...”

“What, that some of his magic would rub off on you?” 

He spits, and I know I’ve found my mark. “Stupid isn’t it,” he says.

“I dunno, there are worse reasons to fuck.”

He downs the last drop of rum and pitches the empty bottle into the sea. We watch it bob around for a while, and then sink. Eventually he says, “it lifted a weight from me, truth be told. Pride is a heavy burden to carry around, and I surrendered mine to Flint, completely. Now I dance to his tune, like I wanted to.”

I’m not sure what to say to that, so I put my hand out and touch his arm. Just for a moment though. He’s so valuable to me as a confidante, I won’t put him at risk. If Flint saw something between us and got the wrong idea, who knows where that would go.

“Everything I’m good at, he’s better at.” Vane continues, warming to his theme, “there’s a kind of peace in admitting it. Accepting it.”

I feel like I want to offer some crumb of comfort. “You know, there is one thing he does really badly.”

“Go on” even in the dark, I can make out the wicked grin spreading across Vane’s features, just from the whiteness of his teeth. I bite my tongue for a moment, this feels like an odd sort of betrayal, but then caution deserts me. 

“He can’t count for shit.”

“No… really?”

“Not a word of a lie. I know he’s got all the words and the languages, but the man has to take his boots off to count above ten. Why do you think Dufresne kept his job for so long?”

“Shit!”

“Yeah. I once saw him spend a whole morning trying to work out what each man’s share of a prize should be, and he still couldn’t get it right.”

“What did he do?”

“Told the men he was going to make an investment on their behalf, and then went and bought a new gun.”

At that, Vane throws his head back laughing. I’m not long behind him, and soon we’re both in fits, chests heaving and tears running down our faces. I’m just starting to get control of myself again, big stupid grin on my face, when I hear Flint’s voice ring out sharply.

“Billy.”

It makes me jump, though I try to seem unconcerned. I glance at Vane who looks back at me wide-eyed, like a guilty child.

“Captain?” I say, trying to make out the expression on his face. He’s close now, striding towards us across the sand. 

“I tried to sleep,” he says, sounding almost apologetic, “but, my head is too…” He trails off, and flops down next to me. The tie in his hair has worked itself loose, and he swipes away the fiery locks that have fallen over his eyes. He looks dog tired, and a little sad. The moonlight plays on the worry lines at his temples, showing them up more harshly than the sun. My fingertips tingle with the desire to touch them, to smooth them away.

“We were just..” I start to say, but he puts a hand on my knee to quiet me.

“It’s doesn’t matter what you were just. But I think Captain Vane has somewhere to be, don’t you Charles?”

I shoot Vane an apologetic glance, but he looks about ready to pass out in any case. “Now you mention it” he says, “I probably do,” and with some effort he staggers unsteadily to his feet and makes off towards the fires.

Flint watches him go, until he’s safely out of earshot. Then he lets his head fall down into his hands. “I can’t rest,” he says, "not until I’ve come up with a plan that isn’t damn near suicidal.”

I take his hands in mine, and try to make light of it, “I thought suicidal plans were your favourite kind?” 

He looks up at me and smiles back weakly, “I seem to have become a little less inclined to gamble the lives of my crew.” His grip on my hand tightens a little then, and the tenderness in that gesture makes my heart beat so hard it almost hurts.

“All of their lives,” I say hopefully, “or just mine?”

He answers me with a kiss, just a gentle pressure against my lower lip. I kiss back, more passionately, but I can tell he’s too tired to match my energy. There is something I can do for him though.

“Let me give you some release,” I whisper.

“Billy..”

“Come on. It always calms you down, and then we can sleep here on the beach.” 

When he doesn’t say no immediately, I know I have him. His gaze starts to drift down from my face, to my shoulders and my arms. He loves to look at those, always has. I tense my muscles a little, and his lips part in response, just showing his teeth.

“Half the crew are on the beach” he says, without much conviction, “what if they see us?”

I call his bluff, “aren’t we a bit beyond all that now? I don’t believe you care. Anyway, it wants to come out, look at it.” 

I flick my eyes down to his lap, where his arousal is just starting to show. Getting the buttons undone is the work of a moment, and then I slip my hand inside where it’s warm. His cock twitches when my fingers find it, smooth soft skin, getting pumped up with lust and need. Before long I have him hard.

“Well since you’re so insistent,” he says, “maybe I’ll have your mouth,” and then he reaches down and pulls his cock free. Nothing furtive or careful about it, he just lets it spring out into the open, exposing us both to whoever happens to look. “They’re probably all dreaming about it anyway, might as well let them see it.” He smirks then, his arrogance is monumental, but I’m too busy staring, and wanting, to care.

“Lay back then,” I say, “give me some room,” and he lets his head fall against the sand with a thump, and his eyes fall shut.

I’d usually take my time over this, but I don’t want to draw too big a crowd, and I know Flint needs to sleep a lot more than he needs to come. This is about getting him off as fast as I can manage, so I close my lips tight around his erection and get on with it.

His cock fills my mouth so perfectly, it’s big enough to make me feel thoroughly used, but not so big that it makes my jaw ache. I could keep this up for hours. I wish I had hours. Soon my tongue registers the familiar taste of him, all that heat and salt and bitterness, and it tempts me to slow down a little and really savour it. 

Flint moans quietly as I lick him from root to tip in one long stroke, and then louder as I lap around the head where drops of precome are glistening. I can feel eyes on me now, I’m sure of it, but I don’t want to turn my head and check in case I lose my nerve. The singing around the bonfires has stopped, and there’s some bawdy laughter. I keep on, but eventually I hear “Oi oi!” followed by “Go on my son!”

_It’s dark_ , I think, _they probably can’t see who we are._

“Hey Billy, that’s not your whistle!”

I hear Flint laugh, between groans, and I can’t help smiling too. After all, I’ve seen them all doing plenty worse, to plenty worse. I may be sucking cock but at least it’s the Captain’s cock. And I’m doing it really well, if Flint’s writhing is anything to go by. The strip of muscle down his stomach is pulled taught and he’s thrusting up into my mouth, although I can tell he’s fighting the impulse to do it too hard.

“Anyone bet me one gold piece that he swallows?” 

“It’s the Captain for fuck’s sake, he has to swallow!”

This time, Flint’s too far gone to laugh, his cock is starting to pulse and his breathing is ragged. And the audience is getting a bit bigger and rowdier than I’m comfortable with, so it’s best I bring the show to a close.

At the last minute though, I lift my mouth away so there can be no mistake about what I’m doing. As the first splash of Flint’s climax spurts out of him, I catch it on my tongue, and then gulp the rest down as quickly as it comes, taking a perverse pleasure in the cheering and shouts of “dirty fucker!” and “get in!”

Flint watches me licking my lips clean through hooded eyes, I know he loves to see me like this, all shameless and submissive. We gaze at each other awhile, and it’s like he’s trying to score this moment into his memory.

Eventually a wave of exhaustion seems to hit him, his whole body goes soft and limp. I tuck him away and rearrange his clothes. When his eyes fall shut, I drop my head down onto his chest and let the sound of his heartbeat, and the slow rhythm of his breathing, lull me to sleep. I drift off, with the taste of him still strong in my mouth.

Later, I feel myself coming out of a deep sleep, and Flint is the first thing I see. He curls into me, and our foreheads, hands and knees connect. It’s still dark, and there is no sound out here, or light. The fires are out and the men have dispersed.

“When this is all over,” he whispers, “we’ll build a house right here. We’ll look at the sea every day, but we’ll never, ever, set foot on a ship for as long as we live…” I close my eyes again and let him carry me away on his words. Why not? Reality will come soon enough in the morning.


End file.
